the ghost of dead slaves has a face of bees. yearning for, but never finding their queen. the sadist Timaeus under any other name. the sadist Timaeus was once in service to the names of angels. multiplying blank slates along the bounding line of self and other.
in his own divided moisture, he must become what he lacks.
to the god of masters, the world is an abyss of spectres, that hollow the person to straw dogs. this demon begets a second who chases it into the darkness, where it dies and gives birth the man who is made out of bees.
& I can know that you're a man, because upon watching your loved one's die, you vowed revenge.
gods sleep at the beginning
and once you lose your body
you become voice
the nature of suffering objects
is that they believe that they deserve it
Computer poetry is warfare carried out by other means, a warfare against conventionality and language that has become automatized. Strange as it seems, our finite state automata have become the poet’s allies in this struggle, the long historical battle by which mankind pries into the surface of language to reveal its latent mysteries… R.W. Bailey, Computer Poems (1973)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Popular Posts
-
when logic and proportion. collapse into your chaos. i will bleed a new math. from the voice of suffering. in crimson patches. the word made...
-
The holy city (Babylon) The city of blood & whores & drugs Eleven infants cast Into her hand Seven kings ago We dined...
-
the Serpent plays on a spiral of his bed. black & red. turning inward. to echo love is crying. out to him by despair. but someone kind...
-
the LORD's house called time furnace tender Gilgal ( gate of desYre ) place of blood out where foreign gods preach through their te...
-
all is vanity so said the LORD (praise me) men put bitter justified rejections over sunshine flaming sword upon a dove the only shade is a r...
No comments:
Post a Comment